


The Special

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [47]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, That fic where Bucky works in a diner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam Wilson is so tired he's seeing double when they finally pull into the parking lot of a little diner off the highway. It's the first one they've seen open for the last three hours, and Sam all but falls out of the car, desperate for a cold drink and a visit to the men's room - maybe a burger if the wait isn't too long, because Steve's in a hurry. Steve's always in a hurry.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He leaves Steve in the car and bolts into the diner. The sign outside says they're just about to close, and the sooner he can get in there and talk to someone, the more likely he is to get a meal out of this. The guy behind the counter is also facing away, talking to someone in the kitchen, but Sam doesn't let that stop him; he marches straight up to the counter, slaps his wallet down on the surface, and says, "Hey man, you guys haven't stopped serving food yet, have you? My friend and I are <i>starving</i>, and--"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The words die a horrible death in his throat, because the guy has turned around and Sam has seen that face before, has seen it in pictures and videos and on the wrong end of a gun, and it can't be this easy, it just <i>can't</i> be him. But it is.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Special

Sam Wilson is so tired he's seeing double when they finally pull into the parking lot of a little diner off the highway. It's the first one they've seen open for the last three hours, and Sam all but falls out of the car, desperate for a cold drink and a visit to the men's room - maybe a burger if the wait isn't too long, because Steve's in a hurry. Steve's always in a hurry.

He leaves Steve in the car, because he's too damn slow and old enough that he'll probably need half an hour to straighten his legs enough to stand up, and bolts into the diner. The sign outside says they're just about to close, and the sooner he can get in there and talk to someone, the more likely he is to get a meal out of this. Inside, the diner is actually pretty deserted, save for an old man in one of the booths; he's got his back to the door, but Sam can tell that he's nursing a cup of coffee just by looking at him. The guy behind the counter is also facing away, talking to someone in the kitchen, but Sam doesn't let that stop him; he marches straight up to the counter, slaps his wallet down on the surface, and says, "Hey man, you guys haven't stopped serving food yet, have you? My friend and I are _starving_ , and--"

The words die a horrible death in his throat, because the guy has turned around and Sam has seen that face before, has seen it in pictures and videos and on the wrong end of a gun, and it can't be this easy, it just _can't_ be him. But it is.

Steve isn't going to believe this.

Steve is popping the kinks out of his back when Sam comes flying back out of the diner; his expression is hard to decipher, and Steve frowns. "What's wrong, I thought you were - hey!" Sam's grabbed him by the elbow and is dragging Steve into the diner, saying something about Steve needing to see - 

" _Bucky?_ "

Bucky - because it is him, it has to be - falters for a second before he frowns, a half-amused half-confused smile teasing at his mouth. "I'm sorry, I-- Can I help you?"

Sam's disappeared, probably to the bathroom, leaving Steve to stammer, "I - Yeah, sorry are you guys still serving food?" Not what Steve had ever imagined saying to Bucky the first time they meet after DC, but he's currently in shock, sue him. 

"Yeah," Bucky says, slowly, like he's not really sure. "Not for long, though. You know what you want?"

"A couple of cheeseburgers and some fries if the fryer's still going?"

Bucky nods, a sharp, jerky movement, and disappears into the kitchen.

A moment later Sam reappears, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "So?" he hisses urgently. "It's him, right? Why aren't you two hugging and crying and shit?"

"I think it is," Steve says. "But, I don't know - he looks better. And I didn't get a look at his arm." 

Steve's right; Bucky, or whoever he is, is wearing a long-sleeved tee, and has yet to show them his hands. Even when he comes back through, Sam can't get a good enough look at his left hand to know for certain.

"Food's on its way," Bucky says, grabbing a mug from beneath the counter and a rag to wipe it with. The rag is in his left hand, and covers it completely. "Sit wherever you want. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water, please," Steve says, giving him a not-quite-there smile. 

"And for me," Sam says, and Bucky gets to pouring.

"So," Bucky says casually, "if you don't mind me asking, what brings you out so late?"

"We're looking for someone," Steve answers with a grateful smile. "Followed the trail for a while, then it went cold. We've been driving aimlessly for several days now, trying to pick up the trail again." 

If Bucky has any idea what they're talking about, he doesn't show it. Instead, he just smiles, and pushes two glasses of water across the counter towards them. "Well then it sounds like a hot meal is just what you need. Give you a boost before you go on your way."

"Thanks," Steve says. "We won't be long." 

Bucky's smile doesn't falter. "Take a seat," he repeats. "I'll bring it over when it's ready."

"Thanks, man." Sam grabs his glass and Steve's elbow, steering him away from the counter and toward a booth.

Steve follows absently, unable to help glancing over his shoulder at Bucky - or at least his doppelganger. "Do you think it could be that easy?" he asks, frowning as he looks back at Sam. 

"I can hardly believe it, but it sure as hell looks like him, don't it?" Sam mutters. "What do you think?"

Steve glances back at Bucky, who's fiddling with the cash register. "I think it's him," he says slowly. "He looks good, though. And if he's got a job - he's got a life here." 

Sam nods, looking grim. "So what do you want to do?"

Steve hesitates. "I don't know," he admits. 

"Do you think he remembers?"

Steve shrugs. "I don't know. I think he remembered something on the helicarrier, but..." 

Sam nods. "We don't have to leave," he says. "But if he doesn't remember, and he has a life here..." He shrugs. "It's your call."

"Yeah," Steve says, fiddling with the glass of water in his hands just for something to do. 

Sam sighs. "I'll stand by you, no matter what."

Steve gives Sam a grateful half-smile, and then silence falls between them, broken by ice clinking against the sides of their glasses. It takes another few minutes before Bucky brings their food over, and when he lays the trays down, the sleeve of his shirt pulls back and reveals Bucky's wrist. 

Bucky's _metal_ wrist. 

Steve inhales sharply, reaching out without thinking to grab Bucky's arm. "Bucky?" he asks, looking up at the other man; he's not sure what his face is doing, and he's not sure he wants to know. 

Bucky's quizzical little smile is back, but now he looks more uncomfortable than anything. "I'm sorry," he says again. "Who's Bucky?"

Doubt flashes across Steve's expression, and he releases Bucky's wrist. "I - I'm sorry. It's just, I thought you were - " 

"That's okay," Bucky says, taking a couple of steps back. "Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. I'll leave you to your meal."

Steve gives Bucky - the man - an apologetic smile before turning back to his meal. Once he's gone, Steve mutters, "That's definitely him." 

"Doesn't look like he remembers, though," Sam says. "What now?"

Steve shrugs, picking up his burger. "We eat, see what he does," Steve says. "We know where he is, and can at least make sure Hydra doesn't get him again." 

Sam peers at him over the top of his own burger, his gaze assessing. "But that's not gonna be enough for you, is it?"

Steve's expression twists into a wry grin. "Probably not," he admits. "But obviously he's got a life here, and - me hanging around would probably just invite trouble." 

Sam doesn't look convinced, but he shrugs. "All right," he says. "Finish that and we'll head out."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve says quietly - and if his chest goes oddly tight at the thought of finding Bucky only to leave him behind... Well, that's his problem. 

* * *

It takes a month for Steve to cave and return to the diner. It's in the day this time, mid-afternoon, and when he walks in Bucky is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's a small blonde woman behind the counter, wearing turquoise mascara, hot pink lipstick and a bright smile that she turns on Steve as soon as she sees him. "Hi there! Beautiful day, huh?"

Steve returns the smile. "It is," he agrees. "I like your makeup." 

The woman giggles, flushing. "Such a charmer," she says. "What can I get for you today?"

"Last time I was here, I had an amazing cheeseburger," Steve says thoughtfully. "Think I could get that in a double?" 

"Of course," the woman says. "Anything to drink?"

"Sweet tea, please," Steve requests with a smile. "Been a long week." 

"You've got it," the woman says. "You wanna grab a table and I'll bring it over?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Steve says, smiling. He picks a table in one of the back corners, tucking himself into it and eyeing the diner. It's a nice place - open, cheerful. Steve wonders what drew Bucky to it. 

The woman brings the tea over a few minutes later, and sets it down in front of Steve with a smile. "I'm going on break now but your food should be ready soon, okay? If there's anything you need just give one of us a shout." She retreats behind the counter a moment later and opens the door to the kitchen, calling out to an unseen coworker. "James! Quit smoking on my time and get your ass in here!"

There's some laughter followed by the slamming of a door, and the woman moves into the kitchen so that someone else can leave. When James appears, he's wearing Bucky's face.

Steve, to his credit, manages to not outright stare, although he can't help but sneak looks. None of them help him figure out what to do, however. He wants to talk to Bucky, figure out what's going on, why he's pretending to have no memories - but what if it isn’t an act? What if he actually _doesn't_ have any memories? 

It's Bucky who brings his food over ten minutes later, and at first it looks as though he doesn't even recognise Steve, but then he meets Steve's gaze while he's asking if he needs anything else, and grins. "Back again?"

Steve shrugs, returning the grin. "Passing through," he says, aiming for casual. 

Bucky nods, throws a dish towel over his shoulder. "Where's your friend?"

"Back at work," Steve answers. "Recently got a transfer." 

Bucky smiles. "Good for him." The door opens and a couple of young girls walk in, and Bucky glances back at them, his hand already reaching for the towel. "Speaking of work, though, I'd better get back to it. Enjoy your food."

"Right, thanks," Steve says, giving Bucky - though apparently he goes by 'James' here - a friendly smile. 

* * *

Steve goes back to the diner each day for the next four days, has Bucky's schedule pretty much memorised so that he's always on shift when Steve is there and even starts sitting at the counter instead of at a table so that they can chat while he eats. Bucky still isn't showing any signs of recognition, but he seems happy to talk to Steve, and it's kind of captivating, seeing him so at ease in a diner of all places. So Steve just... keeps going back.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," Bucky says on the fifth day as he wipes down the counter to Steve's right, "but for someone who was just passing through, you've been in town for almost a week. And I'm starting to worry about that figure of yours, with you coming in here every damn day."

Steve laughs, but it's nervous, and the flush creeping up his neck isn't helping matters. "I'm uh, visiting family," he improvises. "Been overseas for a while, and I'm making up for lost time." 

"Ah," Bucky says, smirking. "Must be fun, if you're spending all your time here, alone."

Steve can feel the heat spreading, spilling over his cheeks now. "Yeah, I mean - this is a nice place. Good company." 

Bucky's smirk deepens. "Well, like I said, I ain't complaining," he says. "You're a lot nicer to look at than most of our regulars."

Steve doesn't mention the fact that he's as old as most of the regulars. "Well, the view's not too bad from where I'm sitting, either." 

Bucky laughs at that, bright and surprised, and shakes his head. "Pass me your cup," he says. "I'll get you a refill."

Steve smiles and complies. "So," he starts, curiosity finally getting the best of him, "What's your story?" 

Bucky shrugs. "I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I got into a pretty bad car accident not far from here about a year ago," Bucky answers. "No permanent physical damage, but I can't remember a damn thing."

"So is 'James' a nickname?"

"Might be," Bucky says. "It was written on the back of my hand, only ID on me."

Steve nods. "Well, I've heard cognitive recalibration can help sometimes." 

Bucky smiles. "I'm sorry?"

Steve grins. "Getting hit really hard on the head." 

Bucky throws his head back and laughs. "I think I'm good, but thanks."

Steve can't help chuckling as well. "Well, I hope you get your memories back," he says sincerely. 

Bucky looks at Steve for a long moment, looking torn, before he approaches slowly. "That night, when you first came in with your friend," he says. "You thought you knew me."

Steve shrugs, leans back against the counter. "You look a lot like one of my old friends. I'd been driving for hours, was kind of delirious, honestly." 

"So you don't know me?"

Steve shrugs, glancing at Bucky. "I don't know. I thought you were him, but..." 

Bucky's smile is a little sad. "I guess you'd have figured it out by now."

"Maybe," Steve says. "But it's been... It's been years since I've seen him - since anyone's seen him. The details get kind of fuzzy after a while." Steve is certain that this is Bucky - the glimpse of metal he'd caught the first night he was here was enough to confirm it for him - but if Bucky doesn't have any of his memories, Steve isn't certain he wants to be the one to break it to him that he’s the single most wanted assassin in the world.

Bucky leans closer, looking cautiously intrigued. "Tell me about him."

Steve's smile turns sad as he thinks. "He was a good man - my best friend. More than that, actually; he was my brother. We grew up together, pretty much, and I can honestly say that I would have died God-knows-how-many times over by now without him. He was loyal, compassionate, and a complete flirt. Had every girl in Brooklyn just about wrapped around his finger, hoping he'd take them out on the town. We went overseas together, the first time, and he - he didn't come back. Not for a while. He was captured, and I don't know what they did to him, but I've been trying to find him and bring him back. I know he's alive, but that's about it."

Bucky frowns. "If he was captured overseas, how do you know he's in America?"

"I saw him," Steve says. "They'd - done something to him, twisted him somehow. He didn't recognize me, but I recognized him. And I have some... very helpful friends."

Bucky nods. "Well, it sounds like you'd definitely know by now if I was him," he says. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry I'm not."

Steve shrugs. "It's not your fault," he says. "I'm not giving up on him just yet." 

Bucky smiles softly. "Then he's lucky to have you."

"After all the times he saved my ass, it's the least I can do," Steve says. "He never gave up on me, so I can't give up on him. No matter what they - whoever they were - did to him, it doesn't change the fact that he's my best friend."

"Well, I hope you find him," Bucky says. "Do you know when you're hitting the road again?"

Steve shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "Maybe tomorrow. Haven't quite finished my business here."

Bucky's smile returns. "Just make sure you come in to say goodbye before you leave."

Steve smiles back, and for some reason it's just a bit too shy, a bit too soft. "I will." 

* * *

Steve avoids the diner for the next two days, and when he returns it's to see the blonde woman behind the counter instead of Bucky. Her name is Marilyn, Steve has now learned, and her mascara is a vibrant purple today, her lipstick cherry red. She lights up when she sees him and waves him over. "Hey stranger!" she coos. "James will be _delighted_ to see you; he's been worrying that you skipped town on him." 

Steve chuckles. "No, uh, just the opposite actually. Is he in today?" 

"Yep." Marilyn pops the 'P' like it's gum. "He's just out back having a cigarette break."

Steve smiles. "Could I get a chocolate shake then while I wait for him?" 

"Sure thing, handsome."

Marilyn is just putting the finishing touches on Steve's shake when Bucky appears in the doorway, a few tendrils of hair falling loose from his usual ponytail to frame his face. "Steve!"

Steve can't help the grin that crosses his face. "Hey James," he answers, proud of the barely-noticeable stutter over the name Bucky goes by here. "Heard you were pining over me." 

"Oh, that's old news," Bucky says easily, taking the shake from Marilyn so that he can pass it to Steve himself. "Been pinin' over you since the first time I saw you."

"Oh really?" Steve asks with a grin, ignoring the warmth curling in his stomach. "Well, maybe the news I've got will put your mind at ease." 

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, leaning against the counter. "Finally come to let me down easy, huh?"

"Maybe not," Steve says. "One of my relatives lives nearby - " One of his distant aunt's children and her children, actually " - and I haven't seen them in years. Figured now might be a good time to get caught up, so you're stuck with me for a while yet."

Bucky looks completely shocked for all of three seconds before a wide grin appears on his face. "That's great," he says, and he sounds like he means it. "For your relatives and for me."

Steve doesn't mention the fact that 'catching up' would be more 'Steve making sure the family is doing well and helping behind the scenes.' "Well, I'm glad you think so," Steve says with a smile, taking a sip of his shake. "I'll have some free time, though, and this town doesn't seem too big. What's there to do when you get bored?" 

"You mean besides getting fat off of our burgers?" Bucky laughs. "It's kind of a slow town, honestly. There are a couple good bars, a tiny little revival house, a really good gym. Depends what you're after."

"The gym might be good," Steve says thoughtfully. 

"Gotta work off all those calories somehow, right?" Bucky teases, running off a length of till roll and grabbing a pen. "Here, I'll give you the address."

"Thanks," Steve says, grinning. "I mean, I've got a fast metabolism, but I think I have been overdoing it on the burgers. Not that I'm going to stop anytime soon." 

Bucky laughs. "You want something to go with that shake?"

Steve smirks. "Take a wild guess." 

"Another cheeseburger?" Bucky asks. "Or something different this time?"

"Well... Do you have any chicken sandwiches? With tomatoes and mayonnaise?" Steve asks hopefully.

"You got it," Bucky says, groping beneath the counter for something. "In fact..." He slaps a menu down in front of Steve. "You might as well keep one of these. They got pulled a couple weeks ago 'cause the prices changed, but it's the food you really care about, right?"

Steve chuckles ruefully. "Money's not really a huge issue, no," he says. Being an Avenger, as well as back-pay and more than a few bonds Steve had invested in when the only way he could help was dance and act, kept Steve pretty much flush. "Thanks." 

"Anythin' for you, sweetheart," Bucky says with a wink. "I'll throw your order through to the kitchen. Fries too, yeah?" He's gone before Steve can answer.

A good thing, too; Steve's not sure he could have answered with anything other than a spluttered, " _Sweetheart?_ " There's heat rising, coloring his cheeks, and Steve pointedly ignores the bemused smirk that Marilyn tosses his way. Had Bucky been _flirting_ with him all this time?

* * *

Steve's back again the next day, ready for another meal and to try to figure if Bucky really was flirting with him, or if maybe it was just a habit, and something he did with all the customers. "Busy day?" he asks, settling into his now-usual seat at the counter. 

"Manic," Bucky says, looking up from his task of cleaning up table three long enough to throw Steve a wink. "Always got time for you though, doll."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can't help the fond smile that makes his mouth twitch. "Well, I'd hate for you to get fired because of me," he says. "Get back to cleaning." 

"Yes sir," Bucky laughs, and turns back to the table. "You're a little earlier than usual - trouble with the family?"

Steve almost asks what Bucky's talking about, but then he remembers. "They had plans," he says. "School activities. Figured I'd come hang out here instead." 

Bucky finishes piling plates and milkshake glasses onto his tray and carries it back behind the counter. "Well, you're more than welcome," he says, sweeping a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. "Can I get you anything?"

"A basket of chili cheese fries," Steve requests. "Please." 

"Getting adventurous, aren't you?" Bucky asks, grinning.

Steve shrugs, returning Bucky's grin with one of his own. "What can I say? I like to... branch out, occasionally." 

Bucky waggles his eyebrows, gives Steve a very purposeful once-over. "I'll keep that in mind."

Steve flushes, tossing a balled-up napkin at Bucky. "Don't you have better things to do than hit on customers?" 

"Of course I do," Bucky says with a teasing grin. "You're just special."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah - get back to work, charmer." 

"So you do agree I'm charming," Bucky says, looking more than a little pleased with himself, but he does as he's told and vanishes into the kitchen with Steve's order.

Steve gets a few moments to get his blush under control, but then Bucky's back, cleaning rag in hand and starting to work on the counter next to Steve. "I thought you had other things to do," Steve says, vaguely amused. "You've cleaned that spot already." 

"Maybe I just want an excuse to talk to you," Bucky says, without shame. "But if I'm bothering you..."

"No, you're not bothering me," Steve hastens to reassure Bucky. "I'm just - it seems like you spend as much time talking to me as you do actually working." 

Bucky shrugs. "You're good company," he says. "And you're a paying customer, same as anyone else. If I can keep you talking for long enough, I'm sure you'll want another cheeseburger."

Steve snorts. "So you're just trying to get more business out of me, huh? Thanks for keeping my head from swelling too much." 

Bucky smirks. "That and I like your smile."

Steve grins. "Well, I can honestly say that's a compliment I haven't heard in a while." 

"Oh please," Bucky says. "You must live in a hole."

"No, I just usually get compliments along the lines of 'nice ass,'" Steve replies, voice light. He wouldn't mind the comments so much if people wouldn't say them behind his back. 

"Oh please," Bucky says. "You must live in a hole."

"No, I just usually get compliments along the lines of 'nice ass,'" Steve replies, voice light. He wouldn't mind the comments so much if people wouldn't say them behind his back. 

"Well, you do have a nice ass," Bucky says with a leer, "but I don't get to see it nearly as often."

Steve rolls his eyes, expression amused. "You get to see it every time I leave," he retorts. 

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky says, laughing. "What's that saying? Hate to see you go..."

"But love to watch you leave," Steve finishes with a grin. 

"That's the one," Bucky says, pointedly ignoring the disapproving look he's getting from an elderly lady at a table behind Steve. Before either of them can say any more, Marilyn appears with Steve's fries, and gives them both a thoroughly endeared look before going back into the kitchen. Bucky leans against the counter, jerking his thumb back toward the door. "She owns this joint, y'know. Built it up from nothin' when she was seventeen."

"Really?" Steve asks, interested as he snags a plastic fork from the dispenser. 

"Oh yeah," Bucky says. "She and her pal did the place up, and then she worked the counter while he cooked." He lowers his voice. "He passed about five years ago, before I got here; no clue of what but it can't have been pretty, Marilyn's not even sixty yet."

Steve's expression softens with sympathy. "I know how that feels," he murmurs. "Still, it seems like she's done well for herself." 

"Definitely," Bucky agrees. "But that's about as much as I can tell you about this place _and_ me, so now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"Tell me something about yourself," Bucky says. "I know you've got family in town, but you clearly didn't grow up here or you'd know Marilyn's story already. So, let's start simple - where did you grow up?"

Steve chuckles. "Fair enough," he concedes. "I grew up in Brooklyn." 

"Brooklyn, huh?" For a moment, something indecipherable flashes across Bucky's face, but then it's gone and his trademark smile is back in place. "Can't say as I've ever been there. What's it like?"

"Well, when I was there - " _seventy years ago_ " - it was... rough. Lot of people had trouble making ends meet where I grew up."

Bucky frowns. "That sounds hard," he says. "But you're doing better for yourself now?"

Steve nods. "I joined the army," he says. "Made a difference in the world, and got paid really well for it." 

Bucky nods. "I figured that's what you meant when you said you'd been overseas," he says. "Can't have been easy, coming back after all that."

"It wasn't," Steve admits. "But I never really got back out. Special forces - of a sort." 

Bucky's eyes widen. "Oh," he says. "Is that-- why you're here?"

"I'm on leave right now," Steve says. "Though if something comes up, I'd probably get called in." 

Bucky smiles. "Then let's hope they leave you alone."

Steve returns the smile. "Let's," he agrees. "What else do you want to know?" 

"I don't know," Bucky says, looking thoughtful. "Tell me something you've never told anyone else."

And Steve forgets himself long enough to say the first thing that comes to his mind. "My biggest regret is not telling my best friend I was in love with him when I had the chance." 

Bucky goes very still, and he looks at Steve with an unreadable expression on his face. "This the guy you lost?" he asks quietly.

Steve smiles, but it's sad, and he's not looking at Bucky anymore, focusing instead on his fries. "Yeah," he answers. 

"You think he felt the same way?" Bucky asks, like he can't quite help himself.

Steve shrugs. "I don't know," he says honestly. "He always - we weren't in a very accepting neighborhood, and he always seemed to be more interested in women. There were some times when I thought 'maybe,' but nothing ever came of it." 

That seems to give Bucky pause, but he hesitates over whatever he wants to say too long, because Marilyn pops her head out of the kitchen door and gives them an apologetic look. "Sorry boys, but I need James to make an emergency run into town; the supplier let us down on a few things."

"Again?" Bucky groans. "Honestly, Mare, you need to cut ties and find someone else."

"I'm not a horse, James," Marilyn days with an indulgent smile. "And Tommy is a good boy, I knew his father."

"He's a _useless_ boy," Bucky grumbles, but he drops his rag and looks at Steve. "Another time?"

Steve's honestly(and guiltily) a little glad for the interruption; there’s a tight spot in his chest now, and his eyes are suspiciously itchy. "Yeah, another time," he says, giving Bucky a small smile. 

Bucky stays long enough to return it, and then he's gone.

* * *

The next night finds Steve on the phone with Sam; he's fully aware that he's acting like an idiot, sprawled on his back on the bed in his hotel room, one arm flung over his face. "I screwed up," he groans into the microphone. "I really, really screwed up, Sam." 

"Let me be the judge of that, Drama Queen," Sam says dryly. "What did you do?"

"Let's see... Not only am I hanging around Bucky - who doesn't remember anything now if it's not from the last year - but I told him I was in love with him. Not _him_ him, but the Bucky I knew. Before we both fell."

There's a low whistle from the other end of the line. "Jesus," Sam says. "I didn't think you'd ever say that out loud. You okay?"

Steve sighs. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "It didn't trigger any memories in him, I don't think, so at least he didn't flip out in the middle of the diner, but at the same time... That was never how I imagined telling him." 

"I'll bet," Sam says. "You could always come home, y'know."

Steve smiles despite himself. "Yeah, I know. But I can't - not yet, anyway." 

"Why not?"

"I lost him twice already, Sam," Steve says quietly. "I don't - I can't lose him again." 

There's a pause, and then Sam's sigh crackles in Steve's ear. "I get it," he says, "but you've said it yourself. He doesn't remember anything; he has a life there now. All you're doing is torturing yourself."

"Guess that makes me a masochist, then," Steve says lightly; he knows Sam's telling the truth, and he knows that he'll have to leave eventually, but... But this is probably as close to the old Bucky as Steve's ever going to get. He can't bring himself to let him go just yet.

Sam sighs again. "It makes you something, but I don't think that's it," he says. "Just be careful, okay? That's all I ask."

"I will," Steve promises. "As much as I can." 

* * *

"So," Bucky says the next day, four hours and two cheeseburgers into Steve's latest visit. "Tell me the truth." He turns his back on the diner and wiggles his head a little so that his hair swishes in its elastic. "Am I kidding myself with the whole ponytail thing? Do I need a haircut?"

Steve, who'd been unable to help the guilty freeze at Bucky's first words, relaxes. "I don't know," he says thoughtfully. "I kind of like the ponytail." 

"See, that's what I said," Bucky agrees, turning back so that he can lean against the counter across from Steve. "Marilyn thinks it makes me look scruffy, though. Keeps threatening to chop it off."

Steve laughs. "I think the scruff makes you look scruffy," he teases. "Maybe if you shaved she'd let you keep the ponytail." 

Bucky lets his jaw drop. "The scruff makes me look manly!" he protests. "It's sexy!"

"Sexy, yes," Steve says with a grin. "Fit to work in a nice place like this? Not so much."

"Ooh," Bucky groans, like he's been winded. "That's a backhanded compliment if ever there was one." He winks. "But at least now I know you think I'm sexy."

Steve rolls his eyes, flicking his straw wrapper at Bucky. "Anybody with eyes knows you're sexy."

"You're just buttering me up," Bucky says, though he looks pleased. "If I keep giving you free milkshakes, I'm going to get fired, beard or no."

Steve affects an exaggerated pout. "You'd cut me off?"

Bucky winces. "All right, all right," he says, already reaching for a clean milkshake glass. "Just stop looking at me like that, jeez."

Steve beams at Bucky, polishing off the last of his shake. He more than makes up for the free milkshakes in tips to Marilyn, because Steve appreciates how well she's treated Bucky in the past year, but it's still fun to wheedle another from the other man.

Half an hour later, they're well into the evening shift, the dinner rush having died down a while ago, and when Marilyn comes out of the kitchen only Steve and the elderly gentleman from Steve's first visit - and every visit since - remain in the diner. "Looks like it's gonna be a quiet one tonight, James," she says sweetly, and Bucky turns to smile at her.

"Yes ma'am."

Marilyn looks at Steve. "Have you been sitting there all day?"

Steve hesitates. "Not _all_ day."

Marilyn purses her lips. "I ought to give you a mop," she says - before smiling. "James, why don't you hang that apron up and take this handsome young man out on the town?"

Bucky nearly drops the mug he's cleaning. "What?"

Steve almost falls off of the bar stool. " _What_?"

Marilyn chuckles. "You boys clearly aren't gonna get off your asses and do something about this thing between you," she says, "and all the time you're spending gassing over that counter is going to ruin _your_ lovely figure, Steve. So go out! Have a good time!"

"But Marilyn--"

"Don't you 'but Marilyn' me, James. My Vic was as gay as they come, and if you think I didn't see you two coming a mile off then you can think again, young man."

Steve's now blushing, heat coloring his cheeks. "That's not - I'm sure that James - "

"That James what? Isn't head over heels crazy for you?" Marilyn waves her hand in dismissal. "Don't make me laugh. This isn't up for discussion, boys!"

Bucky looks incredibly uncomfortable, but he also can't quite keep from smiling as he looks at Steve, one hand coming up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. "Well, how about it?"

Steve just blinks, taken aback. "You - you want to?" 

"Christ, Steve," Bucky says, a faint blush staining his cheeks. "Is it really such a surprise?"

"Kind of?" Steve says honestly, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. "I mean, I know you were flirting, and I was flirting back, but I didn't think... But if you want to..." 

"Hey," Bucky says, shaking his head. "The flirting, that's all it was, harmless, and I like you, but I never expected anythin'. If you don't--"

"No, I do," Steve says, deciding _Fuck it._ He'll beat himself up about this later, but he's going to seize this opportunity with both hands. "I want to."

Marilyn beams. "Fantastic!" she cries. "Give me that apron, James, and off you go."

"But--"

"Now!"

They're out on the street before either of them can register moving, Marilyn slamming the door behind them and threatening to lock it until they go on their way, and Bucky chuckles nervously, shifting on his feet. "I, uhh, should probably change and get the burger smell out of my hair if we're to go on a proper date," he says. "I don't live far - you mind waiting?"

"Not at all," Steve says; Bucky's nervousness is rubbing off. "I'll meet you back here? I should probably get into something a little more date-appropriate, too. Say, half an hour?"

Bucky grins, relieved. "Sure."

* * *

True to their word, the pair meets up outside of the diner. Steve gets their first, and he can see Marilyn giving him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up as he waits for Bucky; he doesn't have long to wait, and Steve blinks. "I - Wow. You look good."

Bucky smiles like he knows it, and he should, because it's true. The ponytail is gone, his hair falling loose in sexy-messy waves around his face, and the scruff Steve was criticising earlier has been trimmed back into respectable stubble; he's wearing a light denim jacket with the jeans to match, black boots and a black t-shirt that fits him perfectly. But Bucky's attention quickly moves from Steve's compliment to Steve himself, as he gives him an appreciative once-over. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Steve's just wearing slacks and a polo shirt, and he's styled his hair just a little, but he still flushes, a pleased smile crossing his features. "Thanks," he says. "Where are we going?" 

"Just to a bar, I thought," Bucky says, grinning. "Unless you're hungry again."

Steve laughs. "I have a fast metabolism, but it's not that fast," he replies. "A bar sounds fine." 

Bucky laughs too, starts walking. "The place I'm thinking of does killer nachos," he offers. "Y'know. Just in case."

* * *

Neither of them quite knows how it happens, but two and a half hours later Steve has Bucky pressed up against the wall of his apartment building, his tongue in Bucky's mouth and Bucky's hand on his ass. "God," Bucky groans when Steve breaks away to kiss his neck. "Steve, Steve. Gotta let me get my key in the door if you-- if you wanna come in."

"Yeah, yeah, that's - " Wait, no, that's not a good idea. that's not a good idea for so many reasons. Reluctantly, Steve draws back, but not to let Bucky turn around. "Wait, James - "

"Steve," Bucky says again, even as he pulls Steve back into a deep kiss. "Steve, don't--"

Steve lets himself have this last kiss, and then he pulls back, shaking his head. "James, we can't," he says, and his voice betrays the conflict he's facing. "It's, there's - There's a lot going on, and it wouldn't be fair."

"Fuck it, Steve, we've waited long enough for this," Bucky says, and he sounds almost angry. "Don't you want to?"

"I do, trust me, I do," Steve says, almost pleading. "But we can't, James." The name feels even more wrong now than it ever has before coming off of Steve's tongue.

The fire in Bucky's eyes dies, and he nods, pushing himself away from the wall so that he can put some distance between himself and Steve. "You're right," he says, running a hand over his face. He sounds exhausted, all of a sudden. "You're right. We can't."

Steve takes a deep breath, sighing. "I'm really sorry," he says quietly. "I wish I could - " _I wish I could let myself have this._ Except he didn't, not really, because what kind of monster would that make him, all but taking advantage of Bucky?

"Don't," Bucky says quietly. "Let's just... call it a night, okay?"

"Okay," Steve says. "I guess I should - I'll see you later." Without waiting to see Bucky's reaction, Steve leaves.

* * *

He hasn't been back by the diner since the disastrous date, but that's about to change. Steve frowns when he sees that Natasha's the one calling him this time, but he picks up nevertheless. "What's going on, Nat?"

"We've got trouble. Barnes' location has been compromised. They're coming for him, Steve."

" _What?_ Do we know who it is, how many?" Steve demands, already moving around his hotel room and grabbing only the necessities. Shit, he's going to have to get Bucky to a safe house, and he doesn't know of any in the area. "We need a safe house, Nat; do you know of any?" 

"Already on it," Nat says. "I'll text you the coordinates, but Steve? You gotta move fast."

"Already on it," Steve says. There isn't time to suit up, not fully, so Steve settles for a worn pair of jeans, a t-shirt, the harness for his shield, and a jacket. His shield is strapped to his bike, and Steve stops only long enough to throw the bag of necessities in a saddlebag and clip the shield into its place before he's gunning it out of the hotel parking lot, speeding for the diner, racing against an invisible enemy who already has a headstart. 

* * *

Marilyn looks up with a start when Steve storms into the diner, and one look at him has her pushing through the kitchen door. "James! Your beau is here, and he looks pretty--"

Bucky's through the door before she has time to finish. "Steve, listen, we need to--" He cuts himself off when he actually sees Steve, takes in the shield on his back and the look in his eyes, and goes very pale. "What's going on?"

"You've been made," Steve says shortly, every inch of him projecting the Captain America persona. "I don't have time to explain, but you and I need to get the hell out of here. _Now._ I have a safe house ready, somewhere we can talk and figure out what happens next, but for your sake and the safety of everyone in here we need to leave now."

"You've been _made?_ " Marilyn demands. "James, what is he talking about?"

But Bucky either doesn't hear her or doesn't have an answer. He pulls his apron off and pushes past her so he can get into the kitchen, reappearing a moment later wearing a dark jacket and a backpack slung over one shoulder. "Let's go."

"But _James_ \--"

"Mare, I'm sorry, but you heard the guy. I'm putting you in danger just by being here." Bucky bends to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for everything," he murmurs, and then, ignoring her protests, ducks out from behind the counter and moves to Steve's side. "Let's _go_."

Steve gives Marilyn an apologetic look, and then he and Bucky leave the diner. "I'm sorry," he says. "The safe house is relatively close. Hop on." Steve gets on the bike first, starting it up as he waits for Bucky.

Bucky hesitates for the first time then, but he gets over it quickly and slings one leg over the back of the bike until he and Steve are pressed together chest-to-back, Bucky's arms around Steve's waist. "Listen," he calls over the roar of the engine. "You don't have to do this!"

"Too late," Steve calls back. "I'm not about to let Hydra take you back, Bucky."

Any response Bucky has to that is lost to the wind as they speed out of the parking lot.

* * *

Forty five minutes later Steve brings them to a stop outside of a miniscule cabin that can't hold more than two rooms, parks the bike and climbs off. Bucky takes a moment to follow, and when Steve looks back at him he seems more preoccupied with looking at the house. "This is your safehouse?" he asks after a beat. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Officially, this place doesn't exist," Steve says. "And if it does get found, then there's no neighbors to be caught in the crossfire." He opens the door, shield at the ready, and quickly clears the two rooms. He digs a device Tony had given him out of the bag he'd brought with him, and flicks it on, setting it on a table. "Jammer," he says. "Just in case."

"You're shitting me," Bucky says, sitting down heavily in the nearest chair. "This is serious."

"I'm not, and it is," Steve says. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and Hydra turned you into the Winter Soldier. After what happened in DC, you've been missing; what's left of both SHIELD and Hydra want you, bad." 

Bucky accepts this without comment, merely nods and wets his lips. "And who's found me? How did they find me?"

"A group of Hydra soldiers, led by a man I used to work with - before I found he was Hydra. His name is Brock Rumlow, but now he goes by Crossbones. I don't know how they found you, but I trust my source," Steve answers, making his way around the cabin and double-checking that everything is secure. "They were on their way to the diner, to make sure nothing happens to Marilyn or anyone there."

Bucky clenches his metal fist. "She's innocent," he says. "If anything happens to her, I'll--"

"We're going to do our best to make sure nothing does," Steve says, careful to keep his voice calm and his posture relaxed. "Marilyn doesn't know where you went, and you're too valuable an asset for Hydra to waste time on people who don't know anything, not when you could be getting further away."

Bucky nods, looking grim. "So what now?"

Steve sighs. "Now we wait for word," he says. "I don't like it, but until we know that at least the people in the diner are safe, there's not much we can do."

Bucky drops his head into his hands. "Christ," he mutters. "Christ, Steve, this is a mess."

"Yeah, well, you couldn't have known," Steve says, almost absently as he looks out the window, running scenarios in his mind, trying to prepare for any eventuality. "Sorry about hiding the whole 'Captain America' thing, by the way."

Bucky laughs darkly. "Trust me," he says. "That's the least of our worries."

"You're right," Steve says with a sigh. "Keep your eyes peeled, then. We can't leave here until I hear from my friend."

"Steve," Bucky says, looking up abruptly. He stops, swallows hard, and then says, "Before, outside the diner. You called me..."

It takes Steve a moment to place what Bucky's talking about. "Oh. I called you 'Bucky,'" Steve says, and then shrugs. "Because that's who you are; I know you lost your memories, and that's why I - the other night. That's why I stopped things. I shouldn't have even let it go that far, and I'm sorry for that."

Bucky blows out a breath, shakes his head. "Christ, Steve, you're a way better man than I ever was."

Steve snorts. "Not really," he says. "I almost didn't stop us - and it was partly for your sake, but mostly for mine. I couldn't live with the thought that I'd taken advantage of you in what might have been worse than what Hydra did."

Bucky shakes his head. "You wouldn't have been taking advantage of me," he says. "If anything, it would've been me taking advantage of you."

That gets Steve to look away from the window, giving Bucky his full attention, a frown creasing his brow. "What do you mean?"

Bucky looks like he wants to be sick. "I remember everything," he says.

"You - " Steve feels like the floor just dropped out from under him, and frankly he's pretty impressed at how he's not currently on his ass on the floor. " _What?_ "

"You heard me," Bucky says. "I remember everything. About bein' the Soldier, about the war, about Brooklyn before that. All of it."

Steve can find no hint of a lie on Bucky's face, but he shakes his head nonetheless. "No, you - Why didn't you - "

Bucky looks down. "I wasn't ready to be found," he says. "When you walked through that door, I was just as surprised as you. And then you recognised me, but said you'd made a mistake. It was just easier to act like I didn't know who you were."

"I only said I made a mistake because I thought you didn't remember," Steve says, voice quiet. "And all this time, you knew? You remember everything?" 

"I thought you'd leave if you thought I was okay there," Bucky admits.

Steve sighs. "I would have," he conceded. "Because you deserve to have a life of your own. And you looked like you were okay." 

"But you stayed," Bucky says. "And after a while I didn't want you to leave."

Steve snorts. "I shouldn't have," he says, turning back to the window. "I should have taken Sam's advice and left, maybe asked Natasha to keep an eye on you." 

Bucky nods, can't bring himself even to look at Steve's back. "You can go, y'know," he says softly. "I knew this would happen eventually; I can look after myself."

"No, I'm not leaving until I hear from Nat that the diner's safe, and not until Crossbones is taken care of. The Avengers have been trying to track him down since we learned he survived DC."

"Then lose the jammer," Bucky says. "Stand me in the middle of that field out there and wait. I'd give it half a day before he came knocking. Less."

That gets Steve to turn back around, expression incredulous. "You want to use yourself as bait?"

Bucky shrugs. "Why not?"

"Because - " _Because I fell for you all over again. Because I don't want to see you in danger ever again._ "No," Steve concedes, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You're right. It'd be the quickest way to get him here." 

Bucky nods. "Right," he says. "Now?"

"Yeah," Steve says, moving towards the jammer. "Now." 

* * *

Unfortunately, it seems they both either overestimated Crossbones's competence, or they underestimated Natasha's ability to hide her safehouses. "Well, looks like we'll have to take shifts," Steve says at about seventeen minutes before midnight. 

Bucky grunts his agreement. "I'll take the first one," he says. "You get some sleep."

Steve snorts. "Right. I'll take the couch; if you even suspect anything..." 

"I'll wake you," Bucky says. "I know the drill."

Steve nods, an awkward silence falling between them. "Well. Here's hoping he'll let us get a quiet night." 

Bucky waits until Steve is settled on the sofa before speaking into the darkness. "I'm not him, y'know," he says quietly. "Whoever it is you think I am."

Steve doesn't answer for a moment. "I know," he says eventually. "Neither of us are the same." 

"I'm not the guy you've been talking to for the past month, though," Bucky pushes. "That's part of the reason why I didn't tell you. That guy... he doesn't have my past to weigh him down."

"But you remembered," Steve argues. "If you remembered, you still had that past." 

Bucky shrugs, a soft rustle of fabric. "It's not the same."

"How?"

"Just is," Bucky says. "I was always busy there, always had to put on a smile and be who they wanted me to be. It was harder when I was alone, and it was exhausting keeping it up, but what choice did I have? Especially after you walked through the door."

"Buck..." That was the absolute last thing Steve had wanted when he decided to see Bucky again, to make Bucky feel trapped and without a choice in what happened. 

"Don't even think about it, Steve, I ain't blaming you," Bucky says. "I'm just trying to tell you, I'm not the same. The war fucked me up, the Russians fucked me up even worse, and it's not been easy, coming back from that. I don't know if I ever will. I just-- I want you to know that. I don't want you to go pinning your hopes on a guy that doesn't exist."

Steve sighs. "I won't," he says. "But Buck... I don't really care about you being the same as you were before everything. I'm optimistic, not naive. I'd be happy to know you were alive and safe." 

Bucky laughs at that, and it's soft but harsh all the same. "Well, we'll see about that when Rumlow gets here."

* * *

Neither of them got much sleep that night, and honestly it was only thanks to Natasha and Sam following Crossbones's trail that managed to keep Steve and Bucky from being overwhelmed the next day. At the end of it, Crossbones was out cold, trussed up in enough restraints that even Houdini would have had a hard time escaping, and Natasha and Sam were handling cleanup while Steve and Bucky hovered near each other off to one side. 

Steve was the one to eventually break the awkward silence between them. "So, what will you do now?" 

Bucky shrugs. "Dunno," he says. "Can't go back to the diner. Maybe I'll find another one."

Steve nods. "Well," he says, forcing himself not to beg Bucky to stay, or at least consider staying, "if you ever get into trouble and need backup, you could give me or Sam a call." 

"I'll bear that in mind," Bucky says, without looking at Steve. "You should probably go. They're waiting for you."

Steve swallows down the hurt at Bucky's avoidance, but nods nonetheless. "All right. Good luck." When Bucky doesn't answer, all Steve does is straighten his shoulders and turn, walking back towards Sam and Natasha. 

"I love you, y'know."

Steve's covered maybe half the distance between Bucky and the other two when the former speaks; it's barely loud enough to be heard, but it's enough to get Steve to stop dead in his tracks. He turns, expression shocked, back to face Bucky. "What did you say?"

Bucky meets his gaze without flinching. "I love you," he repeats. "Always have."

"You - Why are you saying this now?" Steve asks, confused - and trying not to let the tiny tendril of hope grow any bigger. 

"Back at the diner, when you thought I didn't remember," Bucky says. "You told _James_ that your biggest regret was not telling me how you felt about me while you had the chance."

Steve's expression twists as his heart clenches in his chest. "It was." 

Bucky shrugs. "Well, I have enough regrets to live with, don't you think?"

"I - You don't have to say it just because I did. I know it's been - decades, literally, but you don't need to lie to me, Buck."

"You think I'm lying to you?" Bucky demands. "I'm not the one using past tense."

"Well, what the hell else am I supposed to think?" Steve snaps, defensive. "You never said anything before the war, or during!" 

"Neither did you!"

"I'm not the one who went around sleeping with every girl who looked at me twice!"

Bucky's expression hardens. "What would you have had me do, Steve?" he asks coolly. "Stay home every night like a good little wife, pine after you like a sick puppy when I had no idea if you felt the same way, when it was _illegal_ to even think about another man the way I wanted you? People already had their suspicions about us; me going out every night was the only thing that kept the whispers at bay!"

Steve rubs one hand over his face. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "That was - I shouldn't have said that. But that was all still before the war, before we... before we fell. You said it yourself, we're not the same people." 

Bucky sighs. "I know that," he says. "But that doesn't change the way I feel. I don't want anything from you, Steve, I only want you to know that."

Steve's jaw clenches, teeth gritted as he turns away from Bucky, ready to walk away - but then growls, almost to himself before turning back and stalking back to Bucky, reaching out to poke him hard in the chest. "What are you playing at?" he hisses, expression thunderous even though there's something vulnerable behind his gaze. "We're going to leave, you're going to go your own way, and you never said anything about wanting to stay in touch, so I'm assuming you don't want to see me again, which - fine, that's your choice. But what the hell do you hope to accomplish by telling me - _that?_ " 

"You wanted to go!" Bucky protests. "You said yourself that you should have left the diner weeks ago, that you were only staying now until Crossbones had been dealt with. Well, he's gone. You're free to leave."

"I said that I should have left because you didn't remember me - or at least I thought you didn't - and you had a good life going, a life where you didn't need me!"

"Well I do remember you!" Bucky cries. "And my life is _shit_ , and I--"

Whatever Bucky was about to say next is cut off by Steve yanking him forward into a bone-crushing hug. "I'm sorry," Steve murmurs, eyes screwed shut as he buries his face in Bucky's shoulder. 

"I do need you," Bucky finishes, the words barely more than a whisper as he hugs him back fiercely. "I don't want to leave you again, but if that's what you need, I'll let you go."

Steve shakes his head, barely more than a slight rocking motion. "I need _you,_ " he confesses, voice choked. "I don't want to leave you here - I don't want to leave you behind again."

Bucky laughs, and the sound is raw, like it hurts his throat to make it. "Then don't."

Steve goes still, but he doesn't pull back. "You sure?"

Bucky does hesitate, but then he nods. "As sure as I can be," he says. "End of the line, remember?"

Steve pulls back now, studying Bucky intently. After a moment, he smiles - though it's almost shy. "To the end of the line," he agrees. 

"Oh my god!" Sam yells from back near the car. "My teeth are about to drop out of my skull, can we go?"

Steve jerks like Thor hit him with lightning, turning to toss Sam a glare before facing Bucky again with a slight smile. "Well, what do you think?" 

Bucky nods. "I'm ready to stop running."

Steve's smile grows. "Good," he says, pleased. He pulls back and offers Bucky his hand. 

They walk back to the others hand-in-hand, and when they reach them Sam gives them both a wide smile. "So what, does this mean he's an Avenger now?"

Steve glances at Bucky. "Maybe not an Avenger; that's something for the whole team to decide. But it does mean he's coming with us." 

Bucky looks surprised when Sam doesn't so much as blink. "All right," he says. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Natasha lets Tony and the rest know who they're bringing with them to the Avengers Tower, and the reactions are pretty unsurprising: a few jokes from Tony, a supportive comment from Banner, and a demand for a shooting contest from Clint. Thor is away from Earth for the moment, but Steve doesn't doubt that with his history with Loki, the God of Thunder will be nothing but supportive. Steve and Bucky don't talk much until they're safely in Steve's rooms. "Well," Steve says as the elevator doors open into his living room. "This is me." 

Bucky nods, looking around. "It's nice," he says. "Umm. Where--"

"I've got a guest room, if you want it," Steve offers, stepping into the apartment and motioning for Bucky to follow him. "It's two doors down from mine; there's a bathroom in between them." 

Bucky lets out a breath. "That sounds good," he says. "Thanks."

Steve gives him a reassuring smile. "You're welcome." 

Bucky smiles and moves a little further into the room, only to drop down onto the couch. "So," he says, "I guess we should talk."

Steve takes the other end of the couch, nodding, expression serious. "We probably should," he says. "We haven't exactly planned out anything." 

"Even if they'd let me," Bucky says, "I don't know if I want to join the Avengers."

"It's not a condition of you staying here," Steve says gently.

Bucky nods, looking relieved. "I've done terrible things, and I have to face up to that, but... Working in the diner, making a life for myself away from all of that, it was good. It helped."

"I'm glad," Steve says honestly. "If I can help you here, or if anyone can - all you have to do is ask."

Bucky smiles. "I'll keep that in mind."

Steve returns the smile, and silence falls around them for a few moments before Steve says, "So, what do you think you're going to do now?"

"I don't know," Bucky admits. "My being here won't be a secret for long; I can't make any decisions until the world has decided what they want to do with the Winter Soldier."

"Pepper's actually working on that already," Steve says. "Has been since Sam and I found you; Stark's lawyers have been working with the evidence that Nat dumped and the extra stuff that she's found since then. They believe they have a good chance of getting you acquitted of the crimes Hydra made you do; I don't know all the legal jargon, but from what I understand, there's no way they can convince anyone that you - or your body, anyway - didn't do the crimes, but they believe they can convince enough people that you didn't do it voluntarily. Most of the world has been on your side anyway since the events of DC."

Bucky's eyes widen. "Really?"

Steve nods. "Really," he confirms. "Most of the world believes that you're a victim of Hydra - maybe the one that suffered the most. We've been able to get a lot of their tapes and records of you, and none of it is pretty. I can't imagine it was any better to live than it was to read. You have the idiots and conspiracy theorists who want to twist everything, but none of them have a leg to stand on."

"That's... not what I was expecting," Bucky admits. "But I'll take it."

Steve smiles. "Good," he says, letting himself relax a bit more into the couch. "You're welcome here as long as you want to stay."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," Steve says. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but... We've all got issues. I think you'll fit in fine around here." 

Bucky laughs softly. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

The rest of the Avengers have been busy all evening, so Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Nat eat dinner together in Steve's apartment; when the other two have left, Bucky disappears back to his room, leaving Steve to entertain himself for the rest of the night. Steve doesn't mind; he’s honestly surprised that Bucky stuck around long enough to finish eating.

Steve turns in earlier than he usually does, but it’s been a long few days, and Steve didn’t get very much sleep the night before, waiting for Crossbones to show up. When he finally falls asleep, it isn't long before he wakes both himself and Bucky with his screams.

Bucky comes crashing through Steve's door in record time, still half asleep with his sweatpants low on his hips and his hair sticking up every which way, but a gun in his hand all the same. "Steve? What is it?"

Steve's sitting upright in his bed, sheets tossed all around. "It's nothing," he says, though he's still breathing harsh, as though he's run a marathon. "I'm fine, Buck - it was just a nightmare."

Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief, flicking the safety on the gun and setting it down on top of the dresser before he takes a seat at the end of Steve's bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve says, kicking the tangled sheets away from his legs. "Or at least, I will be; not the first nightmare I've had."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Steve snorts. "A new variation on an old nightmare," he mutters. "It's always the same - I get there too late, and you're gone. This time it was Crossbones who pulled the trigger."

Bucky's eyebrows raise. "You have nightmares about me?"

"About not being able to save you," Steve answers. "They've been pretty common since the train, but got even worse after DC."

Now Bucky frowns. "I'm sorry," he says.

Steve shakes his head. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either," Bucky offers.

"I should've been able to pull you back on the train," Steve says. "And if I'd done that, then DC never would have happened." 

"If you really believe that, then you're even more soft in the head now than when I fell," Bucky says, not unkindly.

Steve rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter if _I_ really believe it or not," he retorts. "I still blame myself, and guilt isn't always rational."

Bucky looks like he understands, though he doesn't look happy about it. "I dream about DC too," he says after a moment. "About not realising who you were in time, about killing you."

Steve shifts so there's more room on the bed, patting the space beside him in invitation. "Often?" 

Bucky takes it without hesitation, just like he used to half a century ago. "More often than I dream of the people I actually did kill," he says. "But there's a lot more of them, so they have to wait their turn."

Steve shifts a little closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish there was something I could do to help." 

Bucky gives him a rueful smile. "You're not alone in that," he says.

Steve returns the smile. "Knowing you're alive and safe, that Hydra doesn't have you... That's probably going to help the most. Once it really sinks in, anyway." 

That surprises a laugh out of Bucky. "It's only just starting to sink in for me," he admits.

Steve laughs as well, and the two fall silent once more. The silence lasts for a while - Steve isn't sure how long they've simply been sitting there before he says, almost absently, "Y'know, I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since the last time we shared a bed." 

For a moment Bucky looks like he's going to laugh, but then he just sighs and shakes his head. "Yeah," he says. "Me neither."

"You know," Steve says as a thought occurs to him, "I shouldn't have been using past tense." 

"What?" Bucky asks, bemused.

"When we were talking in the diner - about me being in love with you. I shouldn't have been using past tense."

Bucky's next breath comes out as shaky as he suddenly feels. "Steve, you don't have to do this."

"I kind of do - you're laboring under a misapprehension, Buck. I don't 'loved' you, past tense. I _love_ you - present tense."

"You don't know what you're saying," Bucky argues. "You don't know _me_."

"I could say the same thing for you," Steve points out. 

"You haven't been living a lie for over a year."

Steve sighs. "I know, Buck - but if you want my opinion? I think I know you pretty well. You didn't really seem like you were putting on any act besides pretending to be an amnesiac." 

"An amnesiac who wasn't carrying all of the baggage I am," Bucky argues. "I could pretend for you then, Steve, but I can't now."

"I don't want you to," Steve replies. "You can argue all you like, that doesn't change the fact that I spent just about every day for weeks in the diner, just so I could talk with you." 

Bucky snorts. "I can't believe you told me you were in love with me," he says. "Talk about masochistic."

Steve flushes. "Not my finest moment," he admits. "But I thought you didn't remember anything, and I wasn't actually thinking about what I was going to say." 

"Would you really have told me back then?" Bucky asks softly. "If I hadn't fell; if we'd had more time."

"Probably," Steve answers. "I - the war changed a lot of things. Look a red-faced, hairless monster in the eye, jump across a fiery pit, and suddenly telling your best friend you're in love with him doesn't seem so scary." 

Bucky's smile is a little sad. "I wanted to say something before I left," he admits.

"Yeah?" Steve asks softly. 

Bucky nods. "But I didn't know what I'd do if it made you hate me," he says. "And if by some miracle you felt the same way, I knew I'd never leave."

"I never could have hated you," Steve promises. "But you've got a point; if I'd known how you felt... Well, I would've fought a lot harder to get overseas." 

"Keeping you safe was my first priority," Bucky agrees. "It was easier to go out all the time and pretend I was fucking all those girls than to risk getting you into trouble, whatever form that might take."

Something in Bucky's words sounds off, and it takes Steve a moment to place it. "Wait, you were pretending?" 

Bucky shrugs. "Not all the time," he says. "Couldn't all the time. But yeah."

"Were you really that gone on me?" Steve asks; his tone is light, but there's a certain vulnerability beneath his words. 

Bucky smiles. "'Course I was," he says. "But besides that, I just ain't attracted to women."

Steve tilts his head, looking at Bucky curiously. "You weren't?" 

"Nope," Bucky says. "I mean, I could sleep with them if I had to, probably still could now, but." He shrugs again. "Not my thing."

"Huh," Steve says thoughtfully. "So did you ever - did you ever sleep with another guy?" 

Bucky hums. "A couple times."

"Well, you've got more experience than me, then," Steve chuckles. 

"What?" Bucky asks. "You've never..?"

"Does a half-drunken makeout session count?" Steve asks with a wry grin. "Thor brought some Asgardian mead to a club one time, I managed to get tipsy and made out with a guy in an alley." 

"Wow," Bucky says, impressed. "And girls?"

"A little more experience with them," Steve says. "At least I've gone on dates and kissed a couple." 

"Steve Rogers," Bucky says, his tone half-incredulous, half-awed, "are you a _virgin_?"

Steve rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, I've never had sex with anyone, so - I guess?" 

Bucky doesn't laugh, though, or do anything but knock their shoulders together and smile, small and pleased. "Were you really that gone on me?"

Steve laughs. "I was," he says. "Even if any of the girls had ever looked at me, I wasn't looking back." 

"Except for Peggy," Bucky says before he can help himself.

"Except for Peggy," Steve says; because it's true, he did look back at Peggy some. "I don't think it would have gone anywhere, though. I respected her, I liked her - but I didn't love her, not like that." 

"Did she know that?"

"She suspected," Steve says. "I visit her in the nursing home, and during one of her more lucid moments, she told me that she thought we could've had a good life together, if I hadn't been so hung up on you. I asked her how she knew, and she said my reaction after you fell was all the confirmation she needed." 

Bucky reaches out to rest his hand on Steve's knee, squeezing lightly. "She always was a smart girl."

"Yeah," Steve says with a smile. "Shame that it had to be Alzheimer's."

Bucky squeezes again. "I'm sorry."

Steve reaches over to take Bucky's hand in his, tangling their fingers together. "She had a good life, and she couldn't be expected to wait while I was frozen for seventy years. I'm happy for her; there's nothing really to be sorry for."

Bucky nods, looking down at their hands. "So what do you think?" he asks softly. "Is there still a chance for us to live a good life, too?"

"I think so," Steve answers honestly. "World's grown a lot, and I think after everything, we deserve a good life."

"Together?" Bucky asks, his gaze flickering up to meet Steve's.

"Together," Steve confirms, giving Bucky a small smile.

Bucky breathes what sounds like a soft sigh of relief and closes his eyes, steeling himself. "I'm gonna try somethin' now," he murmurs. "And if it's not what you want, you gotta stop me, okay?"

Steve nods, shifting so that he's facing Bucky a bit more head-on. "Go ahead."

Bucky meets Steve's gaze again and leans in, nudging their noses together playfully, a chance for Steve to back off if he needs to. But he doesn't, and Bucky closes his eyes again. "I love you, Steve," he whispers, a second before their lips touch.

Steve smiles into the kiss, bringing his free hand up to cup the back of Bucky's neck. The kiss is relatively short and chaste, and when they pull apart, Steve's still smiling. "I love you, too."

* * *

They don't leave Steve's quarters for two days, though they do receive visits from some of Steve's teammates instead. No one mentions Bucky's future in the tower or in society in general, and they're both grateful for that, grateful enough that when they finally do venture out into the communal area, it's to have a meal with the rest of the Avengers, including the ones Bucky hasn't met yet.

Tony Stark is counted among this number, and Bucky's a little nervous about that, but when he finally puts in an appearance Bucky is too busy checking out Steve's ass to pay him much attention. Despite having hidden how they feel for so long, or perhaps because of it, neither of them are prepared to hide now; Steve's in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards in search of the salt, and while Bucky spotted it on the counter some time ago, he's enjoying himself too much to spoil the fun.

"What's he doing?" Tony mutters as he sits down at the dinner table, giving Steve's backside a bemused look.

"Salt," Clint mutters around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"But it's--"

"No," Bucky laughs, "don't."

"--right there. Cap! Up six inches and to your left, buddy!"

Steve glances up to the spot Tony indicated, and when he realizes how it changes his position, he grabs the salt and turns to give Bucky a half-hearted glare. "Really? You were checking out my ass, weren't you?"

Bucky grins, unrepentant. "Who, me?"

Tony chokes on a mouthful of wine. "Who, _him?_ "

He's ignored, and Bucky holds out a hand for Steve to take as he returns to the table, mirth gleaming in his eyes. "I was never allowed to look before; can you really blame me? You grew up _good_ , Rogers."

Steve laughs, tossing the salt to Clint. "That's all thanks to Erskine's serum, Buck, and you know it."

Bucky shrugs. "You had a good ass before then, too," he says. "But I ain't complaining."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He grabs the plate Natasha passes over, giving her a smile. "Oh, Tony; how's your latest project going?"

"What?" Tony asks, his eyes on Bucky's flesh hand, which is massaging the back of Steve's neck absently while he feeds himself with his metal one. "I'm sorry, what?"

Steve grins. "I asked how your latest project was going; you've been in the lab almost as long as we've been back."

"Oh, uhh." Tony stalls again as Bucky takes his hand off of Steve's neck so that he can use it to accept the salt from Clint and pass it along; his fingers brush the inside of Steve's wrist intimately when their hands touch, and Tony's eyes widen. "It's, uhh... going well. I'm sorry," he says, clearing his throat, "but _what_ is going on?"

Steve knows full well what Tony's hung up on, but he's enjoying this too much. He pulls out his perfected innocent look. "What do you mean? We're having dinner." 

" _This_ ," Tony says, gesturing helplessly between Steve and Bucky. "Barnes - nice to meet you, by the way." Bucky grunts in acknowledgement and raises his metal hand, fork and all, by way of greeting; his flesh hand seems to be occupied beneath the table, as does one of Steve's. "Barnes being all over you like-- like--"

"A rash?" Clint supplies helpfully.

"Yes!"

"Do people not express affection for their partner like this?" Steve asks, still playing the innocent out-of-time old man.

"Partner," Tony repeats, sounding strangled. "In crime?" Bucky barks out a sharp laugh. "In _business?_ "

"Come on, Stark," Clint sighs. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"

Steve decides to take pity on Tony. "I mean, life partner. Boyfriend, to use a more modern term."

"This is a joke, right?" Tony demands. "Captain America isn't gay! I'd know!"

Steve raises an eyebrow at that. "Why? It's not like I advertised anything about my sexuality." 

Tony waves a hand, impatient. "I monitor all of your internet usage, for one," he says. "Not one gay porn hit since you've been here. And what about Ms Carter? What about Sharon and that kiss you and Nat shared?"

Bucky looks at Steve. "What?" he asks, amused.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Nat kissed me to hide us from the STRIKE team that was hunting us while we were trying to find that old computer with Zola's brain on it," he explains; Nat smirks when Bucky looks at her. "And Tony, I don't watch porn because I have a very good imagination - and I prefer to read it." 

"Of course you do, you old bastard," Tony says. "Well, I suppose this explains the tights."

"No, the tights were out of my control," Steve laughs. "The director had a vision, and he was scary when someone challenged it." 

"Could've fooled me," Tony mutters.

"Stop torturing them, Tony," Bruce says quietly. "Be happy for them."

Tony blinks. "I am happy for them," he says. "'Course I'm happy for you, Jesus. I just don't like being left out of the loop."

Clint snorts. "You were only left out because you're blind as a bat."

"It's more like selectively blind, but yes," Natasha says with a grin. "If it doesn't concern your toys, then you barely pay attention to it." 

"All right!" Tony laughs. "So I missed the obvious; I'm sorry. Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding."

Steve goes bright scarlet as the rest of the team laughs. "We only just got everything figured out between us," he protests. "Give us some time to figure the rest out, Tony, jeez." 

"But that-- that's all legal now, isn't it?" Bucky asks, looking at Steve.

"It is," Natasha says reassuringly. 

"It's just that most people wait a couple of months at least before getting hitched," Sam finishes, grinning. 

Bucky laughs, squeezes Steve's hand beneath the table and turns to fix Tony with a bright smile. "Give us time," he says, "but you can expect that invite."


End file.
